


alone at the edge of a universe [humming a tune]

by sapphicist



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, DSMP Philza makes me irrationally angry, Family, Found Family, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Incoherent, January Sixth, Maybe - Freeform, Philza Minecraft's A+ Parenting, Quackity being a good friend, This is incoherent, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Very little comfort but its there, amen, no beta we die like lmanberg, sbi who i only know tubbo quackity and tommy, short asf, this is almost entirely angst, we'll see how it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicist/pseuds/sapphicist
Summary: -It's not fine. It's not fine, and it'll never be fine, and Tommy hums along to the anthem and pretends he doesn't feel as empty as he really does."We'll live forever," Tubbo whispers as Quackity and Wilbur sing, and it echoes in Tommy's mind. "Even if it's just for tonight, Tommy, we'll live forever."He tries not to believe him, and fails anyway.-Songfic, based on the intro/outro songs of Miracle Musical's album, "Hawaii: Part II". I highly recommend you listen to both.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, No shipping - Relationship, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), ew - Relationship
Comments: 18
Kudos: 79





	alone at the edge of a universe [humming a tune]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WreakingHavok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/gifts).



> Alone at the edge of a universe humming a tune  
> With sparkling crystals souls aglow  
> A part of thee in the key of what we know to be every part without me  
> Knows only two can make it light  
> You'll live forever tonight
> 
> \-- Miracle Musical, Introduction to the Snow [Hawaii, Part II]
> 
> dedicated to hank for being an amazing friend hank if ur reading this ily mwah

When Tommy was a boy, Phil used to spin him around the sitting room of their little farmhouse. 

He'd complained at first, struggling against the grip of the winged man--but then Wilbur would pick up his guitar and start singing some ridiculous tune with a smile brighter than the sun, and Phil would grasp Tommy's hands and twirl him around the room, quick and breathless and joy-filled in a way that seemed to seep into the air itself, and Tommy would find himself giggling right along with them. The music would ring around them, and eventually Phil would spin them in the vague direction of Wilbur, laughing brightly and reaching for his eldest son. 

And Wil would laugh as well, a carefree cackle that rang in your ears melodiously, and he'd set his precious guitar down oh so gently and he'd take Phil's hand, and the three of them would sway to a tune only they could hear, only they could understand. 

And later, when Tubbo had been found and promptly taken in, he would spin with them too, fitting somehow perfectly into their little circle of unheard music. Tubbo had slotted into the rhythm perfectly, a harmony that they hadn't know had been missing from their symphony, but had completed them so absolutely that Tommy sometimes wondered whether or not the universe had made a mistake, not giving the boy to them sooner.

But he joined them, late or not, and he settled comfortably.

So all four of them together, they'd spin and spin and spin, and Tommy would stop, sometimes, and would watch his brothers and father in unadulterated bliss, and he'd think, _this is life. This is living._

He doesn't know when Phil stopped spinning him around the living room. He doesn't know when his melody stopped harmonizing with his families. He doesn't know when Wilbur stopped singing, when Phil stopped dancing, when they all fell still and silent.

This moment feels like stillness, he thinks. He looks out at the rubble that used to be his home, used to be his brother's legacy, and he thinks, this moment feels like everything he hates about himself. 

His brother is dead, and he will never be the same man who hummed and smiled and sang. His da- _Phil_ is gone, gone with the wind, gone with Technoblade, always Techno, always _choosing Techno._

The only person still here is Tubbo, and even though they stand feet apart, Tommy has never felt farther away from his adopted brother; not when he was in exile, not when he was standing on those bridges every day, and not when he stood on top of the damned tower, reaching for the stars and knowing they would be forever just an inch too far away for him to touch. 

The silence is deafening. It rings in his ears, in his mind, in his heart, and he doesn't realize he's crying until he is, until Tubbo is linking their hands together and resting his head on Tommy's shoulder and Prime, he thinks deliriously, this is the worst feeling in the world, isn't it?

~~(He doesn't think about Dream, pulling him back from the edge just to torment him. He doesn't think about a tower that could reach the heavens. He doesn't think about his father, running his brother through with his own sword. He doesn't. He _doesn't_.)~~

And the thing is that they are silent tears--not the aching sobs from youth, not the hot, angry tears he's so familiar with, but cold, freezing, staining his face with the tracks they leave behind. He breathes in, and all he can smell is ash and gunpowder and death. 

Tubbo squeezes his hand again, and that's when his brother starts singing. 

They all do, eventually. They all sing the anthem that has plagued them for so long, that plagued his brother during his spiral into madness up until his final moments, that rang out in the craters of his home's second death at the hands of its father, and they're not very good singers, because that was always Wilbur's strong suit, but they warble anyway, because that's the only thing they can do.

That seems to be a recurring theme, he realizes numbly. Fathers have a tendency to kill their children in this Nether forsaken world. Children die by their father's hand, and the people around them blame the brother left behind. 

Funny, how that works. Like the world's worst recurring melody.

They stop singing. Someone stands on his right, and he has enough sense to recognize it as Quackity. He doesn't look at the older man, but when he reaches for Tommy's hand, Tommy doesn't pull away. Their fingers link together, and Quackity starts singing the second verse by himself, Tubbo silent and Tommy unable to form words even if he tried.

"I thought you didn't remember the second verse?"

Quackity squeezes Tommy's hand, and croaks out an embarrassed, "I don't." 

He keeps singing, though. Keeps singing the words, despite what he says. Keeps holding Tommy's hand, keeps standing there, keeps--

He stays. He stays, and that's enough for Tommy right now. He has Quackity on his right and Tubbo on his left, and his dead brother is singing and he can't remember the last time his father spun him 'round the sitting room, but that's--

It's not fine. It's not fine, and it'll never be fine, and Tommy hums along to the anthem and pretends he doesn't feel as empty as he really does. 

"We'll live forever," Tubbo whispers as Quackity and Wilbur sing, and it echoes in Tommy's mind. "Even if it's just for tonight, Tommy, we'll live forever."

He tries not to believe him, and fails anyway.

They don't dance around the sitting room anymore, but they hum the anthem of a long dead country on the edge of its rubble, and they will live forever in this moment. 

That's not enough, Tommy thinks. But maybe it could be. 

So they listen to Quackity and Wilbur sing, and it feels like saying goodbye.

It's something a long time coming, he realizes. This was always going to happen.

This--L'manberg, he thinks, this was never meant to be. Never.

But maybe. He looks at Quackity, at Tubbo, at the rubble of what their home once was, and he dares to believe that maybe _they_ are.

**Author's Note:**

> According to Archive Of Our Own statistics, only a small percentage of people that read my fics actually comment and leave kudos, so if you end up liking this fic, consider commenting and dropping a kudos; it's free, and you can always change your mind. Enjoy the fic. /c
> 
> no but srrsly drop a comment they're what motivate me to keep posting el oh el :thumbsup:


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